Beneath Stained Glass Wings

by K Kazul Wolf

  A truth. I laugh to hide the sinking disappointment. More time will have to be wasted fixing those wings instead of getting to Vito. “I’ll start working on them as soon as the sun rises.”

  “Good. And your friend…” She looks at Maur, lost in his moment with Dantea.

  “I know you hate dragons, but, Carita.” I want to grab her hands, lean in closer and show her the knowledge and confidence I have in this. “We have more than him, more than one dragon. There’s a group of illusionists and ground dwellers out there with powers that can take down dragons—that took down this dragon—and they’re coming to join us. We’ll have the power we need to take down Caelum.”

  She smiles, though it doesn’t touch her eyes. “Wonderful.”

  Lie. Even with her hatred of dragons, how can she not be excited about this? How can she not love the possibility that we have the power to take down the dragons now?

  “When will they be coming?”

  “Probably in a day or two.” Depending on when they make that decision.

  She nods. “Then I suppose you’ll be able to take revenge on the ones who murdered your dragon.”

  Lie.

  I blink, my mind trying to tumble out why this would be a lie. Did she already know that Vito was alive? No, that wouldn’t make sense. Everything would still be the same if Caelum captured Vito, instead of killed him.

  Unless he’s not being held in Caelum.

  “You look exhausted.” She pats me on the shoulder, leading me to the door. “You and your friend should get some rest before we start discussing plans.”

  “But shouldn’t we talk about it tonight?”

  “The world doesn’t hang on one night, birdie. And you need rest. Bricius!”

  But doesn’t it? Doesn’t the world hang on the moments I waste, the moments that I spend doing what I don’t have to? Bricius is at Carita’s side in a second, like he never left her. I nearly say no, almost refuse that temptation of sleep.

  “You won’t be able to do anything if you haven’t had a good night’s sleep.” Maur’s voice is a whisper in my ear, making me jump. How’d he get that close? Where’s Dantea? Why did he leave her?

  I scowl. He’s right. I can’t ask Carita why she lied right now; I can’t even form a question. Like a five-year-old pouting about it, I simply nod.

  Carita returns the nod, looking to Bricius. He meets her eyes and without a word between them, he somehow knows what to do, like they’ve been prepared for this unpredictable circumstance. He gives me a familiar smile, motioning for the two of us to follow.

  With a relief that feels like it radiates from my skin, I follow him out the door, up the stairs into the dark street. Sleep is so close, yet too far away.

  We turn a few corners, though it feels like miles. My legs ache to a degree that shouldn’t be possible. It’ll only be a matter of time before my joints start creaking. But I can’t stop thinking about the lie. Maybe it would make perfect sense after I sleep, maybe everything would fall into place. But it seems wrong.

  “Maur?” I grab his arm, stopping him. He looks at me, curious but not surprised. “Something’s not right.”

  He nods. “I agree.”

  “Everything all right?” Bricius stops, looking back.

  “Do you hear that?” Maur asks, squinting at a building, leaving me gaping after him. What’s he doing?

  “What?” Bricius asks, walking backward to get a look at whatever Maur hears.

  “It sounds like a baby crying, but…” Maur tilts his head. “Different.”

  “I don’t see or hear anything,” Bricius mutters, squinting at that same building.

  “No, no, stand right in front of me. There’s this thing in the window, and it looks like…” Bricius steps in front of Maur. Maur raises a fist. “Well, it looks like you’re an idiot.”

  And then Maur knocks Bricius out cold.

  32

  The Gloves

  “What did you do?” I can barely squeak.

  He shakes out his hand, smirking a little and completely ignoring me.

  I kneel by Bricius’ side, checking him. He’ll have a bruise, but he’ll be fine. But dragons, Maur knocking someone out? He’s crazy, but I didn’t peg him for this sort of crazy.

  “Aren’t you going to answer me?”

  He eyes me, then lets his fist drop. “Been a while since I’ve done that.” Before I can yell at him, he adds, “Hold on, fiery little serpent. I’m giving us the chance to chat for a while, before being dragged off to where we may be listened to.”

  “You expect me to be calm after you punched one of my friends?” My voice is too loud, echoing around the alleyway, mingling in with the distant voices.

  He raises an eyebrow. But instead of scolding me, he says, “I think we should discuss why you thought something was wrong before he wakes up. Things will probably get a little noisy then.”

  Scowling, I barely, just barely, resist another snap at him. What an idiot he is. I can’t believe a person like him is my grandfather, of all things.

  “Carita was lying when she talked to me.” I get up, resting a hand on my sabre. “She said something about now being able to get revenge on the ones that killed my dragon. It was a lie.”

  “Hm.” He scratches his chin. “And what about that would have been the lie, then? Or is all of it a lie?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. He’s obviously not dead, but she didn’t know that. And if she did know that, she’d have to…”

  She’d have to have seen him after he fell.

  Ice drips through my veins.

  Did she turn him over? No, why would she do that? She wouldn’t have given them back a dragon, no matter how much she hates them.

  Which means… “He— I think he’s here.” The words are barely a breath out of my mouth.

  “Who?” Maur asks, though my mind can’t even absorb the question.

  No. It can’t be that Carita…she wouldn’t do that. She cares about me.

  But did she ever care about Vito?

  She hates dragons. Dantea said it when I left. “More than I hope you ever know.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “She wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t have done that to Vito. She— No.” My breaths come heavier and I wrap my arms around myself. This can’t be the case. It simply can’t. It’s too wrong. Aren’t I supposed to be able to trust these people that found me, hate Caelum with them? She took me under her wing when I was Fallen. I— She can’t have.

  “You think that these people took Vito.” It’s not even a question.

  “I don’t— She couldn’t have.” How much of this was a lie, then?

  “I can’t say it would surprise me.” I look at him, finding his face calm—too calm. A mask. “Now, I don’t claim to know her like you do, but she doesn’t exactly seem straightforward about her plans or intentions. Nor does she seem very kind. Or much else positive. Maybe you didn’t notice, but every time she looked at me, I swear her eyes were practically on fire.”

  “But she…she treats everyone like that.” Everyone. As if we’re always an annoyance, a fly on her ear. She even has a strange distance with Bricius. Despite that she gave him his freedom and he’s able to leave at any time, despite how they seem to talk without words, it’s always clear that she is the master and he is the servant, and she would never give up her position.

  This entire time…it was Carita?

  Pieces click together. When I fell for that second time, I knew Vito was next to me. I didn’t see him when I tumbled to the sand, tried to catch myself in midair. But I remember him next to me as we entered the clouds surrounding the city. She was the one who told me he was gone. She was the one who turned my focus to revenge instead of feeling my grief, feeding me all those words to help me speed through those repairs, barely a thank you on her part.

  That whole time I worked day and night for her, she knew where Vito was. The entire time I was in the desert, searching for answers, she sat here and knowingly hid th
em from me.

  It shouldn’t be that easy. This person I knew and trusted…it shouldn’t be so simple to switch my opinion of her, to see so much dark where there once was light. There should be fewer reasons to believe this.

  I should have never blindly followed them. Fighting for a cause without knowing exactly what I was fighting for makes me just as bad as the dragons. Worse, maybe.

  “Where would he be?” I whisper. I can’t tell what emotion muffles my voice: betrayal, disappointment, disbelief, or anger. “Where would she be keeping Vito? Where would she hide him?”

  Maur cocks his head slightly, looking around. “You have no ideas of where he could be?”

  I wilt, my mind racing as fast as it can through the sludge of exhaustion. I don’t even know where the outcast illusionist guards were taken, after we captured them. I know nothing.

  “I see.” His eyes snap back to me. “Then I may have an idea.”

  I’m not sure whether to be afraid or excited about this idea of his; they’ve been known to go either way. “What is it?” I take a step closer, over Bricius’ unmoving body. “We need to find him. He could be close. We need to—”

  “Shh, serpent. Ranting will get you nowhere. Now, as far as you know, Carita, yourself and I are the only ones with dragon blood, trained to be illusionists in this entire town?”

  “Of course we are,” I murmur, trying to think through the lot of people I’ve met. With the whole of the population drowning in prejudice, it’s no wonder I’ve never seen another illusionist after my fall until I left this place.

  “Good then.” He shifts on his feet, looking anxiously toward Bricius. “You’ll need your crystal.”

  I hesitate. What is he thinking?

  “Come on, serpent, that man will be up any moment.”

  I pull the crystal out and he finally explains, “All right. You’re going to do exactly what you did at the pool. Hold on, hold on, before you give me one of your arguments: yes, I’m well aware the open air is nothing like that pond. There’s no previous illusion to draw from and much less water. There are many ways to find things, however. If he is in this town, he will be giving off ripples in any water around him. And you, serpent, are attuned to these ripples. They’re a part of those words carved into your arm. Now, come. I need you to try to see if you can find his pulse.”

  He crosses his arms and taps his fingers, anxiously glancing at Bricius a few times each minute, which is not exactly helping me concentrate on the words flowing across my arm. I raise a hand and trace that first word, the one that Maur first carved onto my skin. But it feels wrong, and it stands out among the other words as not right. I write over it, a new word blossoming in that same language that Vito and I shared, sitting on the floor of my father’s place, whispering forbidden words. It twines with the old one like vines, foliage curling up my arm. Desperation pairs with something new: determination.

  And I can feel it again. Those words, that power under my skin. The words for my mother, my father, Maur, and then, of course, Vito. I grab at them, dragging them as close to the surface as I can. But nothing happens.

  “I-I’m trying.” I stammer, attempting to concentrate with exhaustion sending painful pricks into my eyes. “But nothing’s happening.”

  “The crystal,” he says, impatience lacing his words. “You’ll see it with the crystal.”

  Oh, yes, that. Slowly, carefully, I raise my arm. I catch the distant light of the stars, the waxing moon, concentrating it until I catch sparkles of water around me. Then I draw the words again, my palm pressed over that new word, as if touching it will help me stay in that feeling, keep it from draining my energy as quickly.

  The light around me shifts. It gets thicker, then it flows, soft waves pulsing through the air as if I were underwater. It would be beautiful if I didn’t have to focus so much on the words. Sweat beads on my forehead.

  “He’ll be against the tide!” Maur shouts, running opposite of the flow of light and where it seems to grow stronger, toward where the light of my illusion ends. I scramble after him, watching as the light gathers tighter around me, pulsing faster and faster until it’s more like a fast tempo than a tide, more like a sandstorm of lights.

  I nearly run into Maur, paused outside a building.

  “This is it,” he says quietly. “Let the illusion fall, and let’s hope no one noticed the light show. I can’t imagine Carita leaves this place unguarded.”

  I hesitate for a second. What’s around me is Vito. His presence. I can’t wrap my head around him being here, Carita betraying me. Then again, were we ever really on the same side? Our goals may have aligned but we never cared about the same things.

  Putting the crystal away, I step into blinding darkness. A lock secures the door, and I have to concentrate through the thick fog in my groggy mind to force out an illusion to break through. This can’t be smart, going through this whole ordeal so tired that my eyes are barely cracked open. But I can’t stop, not so close.

  Maur stiffens at my side. “You go ahead. There may be some problems coming.”

  “Like wha’?” It comes out as a sleepy slur.

  “Go! Quickly,” he hisses, shoving me through the door.

  I mutter a curse, then glance around, my heart hammering on my ribs at the thought of seeing a glimpse of those brown scales.

  But there aren’t any scales that I can see in this room. It seems to be a shop front, jewelry and metals glinting in the dim light.

  I’m almost to the door on the wall that’s opposite of the entrance, when something behind and underneath the warped, wooden counter catches my eye. Shining in a way that looks too familiar.

  With a glance back to still see Maur silhouetted in the doorway, I dart over. They’re…scales. Sewn delicately into gloves. Brown scales glitter across them, bits of lace, torn and frayed, still clinging to it in a desperate sort of way.

  It’s true.

  She took him.

  She stole Vito from me.

  33

  The Pinioned

  The world spins around my head. Anger pulses through me. My heart doesn’t pump blood anymore, only rage and hurt and betrayal flow through my veins. The words on my arm push against my skin, power crawling along them, anxious to get out.

  And yet faintness drags at my limbs, dizziness steals my focus. Sleep calls to me, whispers in my ears, runs its fingers through my hair. My legs sway underneath me.

  No, I can’t stop now. Not so close.

  Maur’s voice rings out, snapping my focus back to the room. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but he doesn’t sound happy.

  Not much time left. How do I find Vito?

  With one last look at Maur, seeing him step out of the doorway and onto the street toward something or someone, I slip on my gloves, wiggling through the holes, and take out my crystal. I curl my fingers so the tips touch the scales of the gloves. Those scales Vito shed and gave to me whenever the gloves needed repair. Shaking the wave of nostalgia from my head, I lift the crystal to catch the little light in the room, capture it all in illusion.

  Maur must have helped me before with the lighting in the street, because there’s so little now that it’s almost impossible to catch the glimmering rainbow droplets pulsing through the air. Almost. After a moment of trying to get my eyes to focus on it, the tide is ridiculously strong, coming from…underneath me?

  I kneel as Maur yells. The words are lost as my head swirls, exhaustion clouding my mind. My fingers wander the floor, searching and searching until— There. A groove in the floor. I try to grip it, but it’s too heavy, too perfectly fitted. I pull at the words on my skin, using so much energy that it hurts, that unused muscle burning against my skin.

  I press water into the wood, so much and so hard that it groans. I keep pulling, but it doesn’t move. With a deep breath, I shove more water into it, pull so hard that my arms might fall apart at the joints. It moans louder, then splinters, becomes so weak that I can dig my fingers into it.
/>   Then it snaps.

  And I fall backward, wings snapping open to smash again the wall and the counter. Pain flares through my joints, jolting down my spine. There’s a crash from the front of the store. They can’t catch me now. I need to see him.

  I leap forward, diving into the wide gap in the floor. It’s a long fall. I use my wings to steady myself, but I still land off-kilter, collapsing to the ground.

  It’s so hard to get up, convince myself to keep going. Why on earth did I go so long without sleep?

  Something moves in the darkness, scraping against the ground. It’s something I need to care about, and I try to convince myself of that. Maybe I need to run, maybe I could die. Move, move, move.

  The something sniffs. An animal.

  Then it makes a sound. A cross between a growl and a whine, and the scraping gets longer, claws raking against the ground, like it’s pulling against something.

  I know that tone, that voice.

  I have to use my wings, but I get to my feet. I can’t see but I stumble forward, toward the noise, half-wondering if it’s a hallucination. It has to be a hallucination.

  Something pushes against my stomach, heavy breaths coming from a snout that buries itself into my clothes. Whining echoes along the small room, the panting becoming heavier. With shaking hands, I reach out.

  My hands touch scales, warm and familiar and here.

  I throw myself forward, wrapping my arms and my wings around Vito’s head.

  He’s here, he’s here, so very, very here. Tears spring to my eyes and I resist the urge to grip him tighter, trying not to strangle him. He makes desperate growls and whines, constantly shifting underneath me, checking on me.

  Everything feels different around me. It feels right. It feels like I can breathe again, like Vito took my lungs when I couldn’t find him anymore.

  I want light. I pull back enough to look up, try to see him, check on him. But I can’t. It’s pitch dark in here.